Strangers Have the Best Candy
by blahfugginblah
Summary: Harry finds a rather...questionable...use for his mental connection to the Dark Lord.


Title: **Strangers Have the Best Candy!**

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable as belonging to J. K. Rowling or the Harry Potter franchise.

A/n: For the Hxt-Lightening Bi-weekly Challenge #4: Masturbation.

* * *

For the first time in his life, the Dark Lord Voldemort was positively floored. 

"You want me to what?"

He could feel Harry's hesitation through their mind link, the boy's emotion nearly tangible.

"Well, I've never...you know...and it's not like I can ask someone at school. So I figured that with the scar connection and stuff, you could...errr show me…sort of."

"You want me to instruct you in the act of masturbation?" he asked slowly, incredulity practically oozing from his voice.

"Err, yeah."

The boy said it so innocently, as if he wasn't truly asking his antithesis to school him in the pseudo arts of self gratification. Voldemort's composure cracked momentarily as he found his traitorous mind actually considering the proposition.

This was going to turn into something absolutely dreadful, something horrid and reeking of pedophilic overtones, the Dark Lord simply knew it.

_

* * *

Several awkward minutes later _

* * *

"Okay, so you just grab on? Is this supposed to feel morally reprehensible?" 

"Be silent and do it, Potter. I'm not exactly doing this for my own benefit."

Voldemort started violently at the sudden burning in his groin. "What are you—are you retarded, boy? Merlin, gently! Gauge the firmness in your grip; you aren't trying to rip the bloody thing off."

"Well, it's not as if I've ever done this before!"

True, this poor, unfortunate miscreant had initially mentioned his virginal condition, but this was ridiculous. "You're seventeen, what do you mean you've never done this before? I wasn't the most sexually aware boy in my time, but you are simply unbelievable."

He sighed heavily and readjusted his crumpled lapels, thinking all the while that he should have pushed the looming Death Eater gathering back an hour…or ten. However, his thoughts were once more interrupted when the slight burning was replaced by the most god awful scraping sensation.

"Gentle. GENTLE! I swear I'll strike you dead if you don't adjust your thumb, boy! One more fingernail fest and I'll write this off as a sordid dream and leave you to yourself."

"No! I'm sorry, I'm just not very confident."

"Confidence be damned! This is instinct pure and simple."

'At this rate I doubt you'll ever get it up,' he growled under his breath as an afterthought.

"Oh, right. I'd like to see you do better, Mr. dermatologically ill-advised."

"Fine," he snapped, his knuckles white on the arms of his stiff backed throne.

Teetering on the thin line between irritation and all consuming rage, Voldemort stroked himself with a machine gun rhythm and, upon completion, stood and threw his arms up in an almost self-congratulatory manner. That ought to teach the brat!

"There! There, you testosterone-lacking excuse of a wizard. That is how a true wizard should masturbate!" his voice rang throughout both the mental link and, unfortunately, the acoustically very-well-equipped hall.

Wormtail froze in horror as he entered the audience chamber for his scheduled appointment with the Dark Lord, staring at his Lord in all of his pale serpentine glory. "I'll just nip back here later then shall I, Master?" he asked hesitantly, averting his gaze toward the floor and shuffling backwards awkwardly.

Voldemort likewise froze, arms still raised in rapidly dwindling triumph and his trousers still pooled around his ankles. "Err, yes, that would be acceptable. Now, must I waste my breath on the outcome of your mentioning this?" Wormtail shifted uncomfortably and clutched the brass door knob as if it were his sanctuary. "No, Master. Retreating now, Master."

A giggle resonated through the mental tendrils.

"A word about this and I'll haunt you for the rest of your miserable, asexual life, boy," Voldemort hissed callously as he retrieved and buckled up his trousers.

Harry smirked and glanced down at his spent and flacid phallus. "I don't have to be."

Upon adjusting his outer robes, now in desperate need of pressing, Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose...err...flatened nasal structure, and sighed heavily.

"What?"

"I don't have to be asexual. I mean, you have the absolute most wicked fingers, and even Dark Lords have to have weekends off sometime, right?"

"_Bloody hell_."


End file.
